I Run to You
by fnl
Summary: If there was one thing Oliver knew, it was the same thing that set her so far apart from all the other girls who had taken him back to their flats. He wanted to be there in the morning.


**Summary:** If there was one thing Oliver knew, it was the same thing that set her so far apart from all the other girls who had taken him back to their flats.  
He wanted to be there in the morning.

**Notes: **So this was supposed to be a small, fluffy one shot ... now it's going to be a dramatic, slightly crazy two parter. I just want to say one thing before you begin – please keep in mind that Katie (as a character) has a mind of her own. There's a reason she's doing the things she is in this story (and this chapter in particular), and you will find out the exact reasons behind her behaviour in the next part. Also, as a pre-emptive defensive note: we were never given much information about Katie and Oliver in the books, so their characters are pretty much up for interpretation. Please keep that in mind as well. Otherwise – enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, I own nothing. I wish.

* * *

_You find it hard to look me in the eye,  
Must make it easier to say goodbye.  
_- _Right Here Beside Me_, Doc Walker

For the longest time, girls hadn't been his cup of tea.

Well, not quite. Girls were always his "cup of tea", so to speak, it's just that for the longest time, he didn't understand why one would take girls when one could have sport.

It wasn't until Oliver had left Hogwarts and played a few games as a stand in for Puddlemere United's regular Keeper that he realised he could have girls and sport.

That was a beautiful and life changing revelation.

With professional Quidditch came fame. With fame came fans, and with fans came admirers. Wood wasn't the flashiest player on the Puddlemere team, but he was solid, steady, and dependable. While most fans of teams other than Puddlemere probably wouldn't give him the time of day, to the fans of the Puddlemere United team, he was a blessing in a burly, dark, and slightly intimidating disguise. Once Oliver had signed to Puddlemere, the team, fans, and managers no longer had to worry what would happen if their regular Keeper were to take one too many Quaffles to the head and be rendered useless for any upcoming games, for their reserve Keeper was just as dependable as their starter.

In fact, Oliver had only been with the team a couple years when their starting Keeper signed on with another team and the position was offered to him. If he had thought he had the pick of girls as a reserve, it was nothing to what being a starter offered him.

Of course, Oliver was still only a moderately popular player, relative to the other Quidditch professionals, and while he was widely respected by Puddlemere fans, those of other teams in the league really could care less about him, and usually, such girls didn't pay him a second glance.

While Oliver couldn't really be said to be unattractive, he was also not worth the second glance of many female Quidditch fans. Though he was broad shouldered and tall, his hair was in a constant state of needing to be cut, and his dark eyes and heavy eyebrows seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. A smile revealed two rows of teeth with one too many chips (the price of playing sports for a living), and seeing him clean shaven tended to be a rare appearance.

However, being a professional, dependable Keeper, most of Puddlemere's female fanbase seemed to be able to look past the discrepancies in his appearance, and he never had a problem finding girls to take home with him.

For a guy who had never dated through school, he made up for it afterwards.

As a reserve, his life had been pretty, well, awesome. He'd go from practicing the game he loved to a pub (or occasionally club) with his mates on the reserve side. They'd drink into the wee hours of the morning, each usually going home with a different girl, and each showing up to practice the next morning sick; possibly regretful, depending on what the girl looked like in the morning light; and usually swearing up and down that they were never going to drink again. Then, practice would end, and the cycle would repeat.

It was slightly ironic, though, that as one advanced from the substitute's to starting lineup, the volume of girls they had to pick from increased, while at the same time, the time they had to spend with and pick up girls decreased. Professional Quidditch ran a demanding schedule, and though Oliver sometimes missed the lifestyle of a reserve player, he still managed to find time to go out, he still went home with a new girl on his arm, and he loved his job more than he had before.

Oliver Wood thought he had it pretty good.

* * *

**September 1, 1998  
7:26 AM**

Oliver groaned as he rolled over. Where the _fuck_ was his wand? Blindly groping the floor, he found his wand and silently summoned his watch over. 7:27, excellent. Enough time to get out of whoever's flat he was in, get home, change, and head to practice. Carefully extracting himself from the bed as to not wake the girl sleeping next to him, he pulled on his robes as quietly as possible before giving the witch one final glance over. He'd gone home with worse, that was for sure.

He didn't even feel guilty as he walked out her door. The girls he went with all knew it was a one-time thing.

* * *

**14 hours later**

"Hey, Wood!"

Oliver heard his name called the minute he walked in to the pub the evening after a gruelling practice. Glancing around, he saw one of the Puddlemere reserve chasers waving him over to a table.

"Hey," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down before directing his attention to the man who called him over. "I know you were expecting me, Dawson, but was it really necessary to keep one eye trained on the door for me? It's a bit creepy, come to think of it."

Dawson shrugged as another man spoke up. "Wood, you remember the name of that blonde bird you took home the other night?"

Oliver glanced up at Nick Martins, slightly confused. "What bird?" he asked, racking his brain.

Nick rolled his eyes. "The one who you picked up in the club the other night, the pretty blonde."

Shaking his head, Oliver said, "Don't bother. Trust me, she was less of a looker the next morning."

Dawson let out a snort. "Ah, Wood," he said, knowingly. "You need to lay off the Firewhiskey, mate. You could never tell the good from the bad when you had a bit of alcohol in your system."

Oliver shrugged. "I'm out before they wake up, anyways," he said. "Only I know if I've made it with a right bag."

"And us, if you tell us about it the next week," Nick offered.

Oliver ignored him. "Where're the rest of them, anyways?" he asked, giving a cursory glance around the pub. "I thought they were all heading by?"

Adam Dawson shook his head and drained his drink. "I've no idea," he said. "That's what they told me, too. You hear anything, Martins?"

Nick shrugged. "Looks like it's just us, boys," he said. "Anyways, what time's training tomorrow?"

"Eight," Adam said reflexively as Nick cussed loudly.

"No broads for me, tonight, then," he concluded. "Unlike our friend Oliver here, I don't usually take off at a disgusting hour of the morning."

"That's because you always take them to your flat," Oliver pointed out as Nick grinned.

"True enough," he admitted. "At least I talk to them afterwards, though," he said, glancing sidelong at Oliver, who held up his hands defensively.

"The way you two talk," he protested. "You'd think I was taking home girls every night."

"Or heading to their flat," Adam interrupted, snickering. Oliver glared at him.

"I'm not that bad, guys," he said. "I'm not having sex with random birds every night."

"That's only because there aren't enough out there who are willing to have sex with you," Nick said, grinning as Oliver rolled his eyes.

"I give up, you lot won't believe a thing I say."

Adam nodded. "Probably not."

"As I was saying," Nick continued. "No girls for me tonight, not with an -" As he trailed off, eyes glued to the door, Oliver and Adam both turned to see what he was looking at. Two young blonde girls had just walked in, both of whom Oliver recognised, but a quick glance at his two companions told him that neither of them knew the girls.

"Or," Nick said, watching the girls take a seat in the corner of the pub. "Maybe I will take someone home tonight. You don't think they're Arrows fans, do you?" He began to look slightly disgusted.

Oliver laughed. "The one further away from us isn't, I can tell you that for sure," he said. "I'm not sure about her friend, though."

Adam focused his stare on the two, searching for some sort of sign of Quidditch support. "How do you know she's not an Arrows fan?" he asked finally, his search apparently coming up fruitless.

"They were in my house at Hogwarts," Oliver said casually as Nick's eyes almost bugged out of his skull.

"What are you doing then, call them over!"

Oliver rolled his eyes, but upon seeing Nick's eyes darting from him to the girls and back, he reluctantly shouted, "Oi, Katie!" across the nearly empty pub. She looked up, and he gestured her over.

"Hey, Oliver!" she said, sliding into the seat next to him. "I haven't seen you since all that shit happened in June. How's it going?"

"It's going," he said, with a wry grin. "Nick wanted me to introduce you to him."

"And her friend," Nick reminded him.

"And your friend," Oliver repeated, hesitating as he tried to remember her name.

"Leanne," Katie prompted.

"Leanne, right," Oliver said, and called her over as well.

"Leanne, Katie; Nick, Adam."

Hellos were exchanged before an awkward silence descended on the group. Nick engaged Leanne in a quiet conversation while Katie, Oliver, and Adam fidgeted and played with their glasses.

"I should probably get going," Adam said finally, and Leanne looked up abruptly.

"Please don't leave on our account!" she exclaimed. "You lot were getting along fine before we came along!" She glanced quickly at Katie, who didn't catch on right away.

"Yeah," she said finally. "We don't want to drive you away from an evening with your mates, Adam!"

He gave them a half smile. "Nah, I've got to head home," he said. "My wife's not going to be too impressed if I leave her to deal with the baby all night while I'm out drinking."

"See you later, then, mate," Nick offered as Adam rose. Oliver waved and the girls both offered their farewells.

Leanne took off for the bathroom not long after Adam left, and the three people remaining engaged in small talk until Nick left to get some drinks.

"He's not even going to the bar," Katie laughed as she watched Nick walk in the direction of the bathrooms. "They could be a little more discreet, don't you think?"

Oliver grinned. "He doesn't want to take home a girl tonight because we've got practice early tomorrow." He stopped himself before he said anymore, already worried that he'd said too much.

To his surprise, Katie snickered. "You're not worried about Leanne?" Oliver asked, surprised that she wasn't getting upset over Nick's shagging one of her best friends in a pub.

"Leanne's a big girl; she can take care of herself."

Oliver grinned. "So what have you been up to?" he asked. "I heard you were with Gringotts for a while."

Katie nodded. "I liked the work, but the goblins terrified me," she admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I'm actually at the Ministry, now that it's back to normal again."

Nodding, Oliver was surprised that he actually had a genuine interest in what she was doing and what she had been up to for the last year. "Listen," he said. "I don't want to be here when they get back." Katie nodded her agreement. "Do you want to just," he paused, trying to think of what to say. "Go for a walk or something?" he finished lamely.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Katie said, as the two stood up and went to pay their tab.

"Don't worry about it," Oliver said as Katie reached for her wallet. "It's the least I can do after introducing you to Nick," he explained with a grin.

Katie seemed surprised, but didn't say anything.

As the two walked through Diagon Alley, they found themselves getting along better than they ever had in school. Katie teasingly told Oliver it was because he had finally gained some social skills while Oliver insisted that it was because the three year gap between them seemed slightly smaller when she was 20 and he 23.

"That's ridiculous," Katie said, when he told her. "Three years is three years!"

"There's a bigger difference between 14 and 17 than 20 and 23," Oliver argued. "When I was 17 I couldn't have a serious conversation with you without you blushing and stuttering because you were so astounded with my good looks!"

Katie snorted before starting to laugh. "Seriously, Oliver!" she cried. "You were possibly the most awkward 17 year old I've ever met! Off the Quidditch pitch, of course."

Oliver looked slightly affronted. "I wasn't that bad!" he said defensively.

Katie paused for a minute. "Okay," she finally said. "You weren't quite that bad. But I certainly wasn't 'astounded by your good looks' or anything."

"Fair enough," Oliver said. A silence descended upon the two for a brief moment before he said, "What about now?"

"You're better now," Katie admitted. "It wouldn't hurt to shave once in a while, though," she grinned. "Honestly, I know no one can see when you're on the pitch, but doesn't it get annoying?"

"Shaving's more annoying," Oliver promised. "Besides, who've I got to impress?"

"Dashing young ladies from your school days, obviously," Katie said, walking ahead of him before turning around and walking backwards so she could face him.

"Dashing young ladies like Leanne?" Oliver asked innocently, and Katie rolled her eyes.

"Funny," she said, before stopping and nodding to the building they were standing in front of. "This is my place," she said. "It was good to see you, though, Oliver."

"You too," he returned the sentiment as she turned to walk up the stairs to the flat complex. As he watched her retreating back, he couldn't help but wonder when he'd see her again – not a common thought with Oliver and girls, though it had happened a few times before.

And before he could stop himself, before he could control the words spilling out of his mouth, he said, "Katie, do you, uh ..." First his mind was in overdrive, and now it wasn't working. "When will I see you again?"

The blonde girl turned around. "Do you want to meet up one day?" she asked, looking slightly surprised as if the thought hadn't occurred to her. "We can go for butterbeers on Saturday, if you're off!"

Oliver nodded as they arranged a time and place to meet, and he walked to his flat feeling just a bit lighter and just a bit happier than he had that morning.

Before he knew it, that one Saturday had turned into a months of Saturdays, Sundays, and weekday evenings, and his friends were beginning to worry.

"Oliver, you haven't gone home with a girl in ages," Nick said as they changed out of their training robes one day in early October. "Is there someone we don't know about?"

Oliver shook his head. Sure, he hadn't gone home with a girl since that first night with Katie, but it was completely unrelated. Even if it wasn't, it wasn't like they were going together, or anything. "Just a bit tired, mate," he told Nick as he shrugged on his robes. "I've got to go, though, I've got stuff to do tonight."

As Oliver walked out into the dark night and apparated to Diagon Alley, he couldn't help but think about what Nick said. It _was_ unusual for him to go a month without a girl, but lately, he just hadn't felt like it. Shaking his head to snap himself out of it, he wandered into Quality Quidditch Supplies in search of new gloves.

So excited was he about his purchase that when he exited the store, he barely noticed the girl he bumped into.

"Oliver!" he looked up to see Katie standing in front of him. "I didn't expect to see you here!" she exclaimed, as he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. She laughed. "Okay, so I'm not surprised, but I didn't think when I left my flat this evening that I'd find you."

"Fair enough," Oliver grinned. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing in particular. I heard there's a new broom on the market, though, I just wanted to look. I'd never buy it."

"It's not worth it," Oliver told her. "Comet's are still sixty years behind the rest."

Katie laughed. "Alright, I'll take your word for it. Where're you headed?"

Oliver shrugged. "Home, I guess."

"Walk me home first?"

Shrugging, Oliver set off in the direction of her flat, and she had to run to catch up. As they walked, they made small talk, mostly about Puddlemere's recent match results. When they were in front of Katie's building, though, she hesitated.

"It was nice to run into you," she offered as he nodded. Turning to walk up the steps, Oliver was reminded of a night nearly a month ago that had began this whole thing.

"Katie," he called, without thinking, much like in the first situation when he had been unable to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. He had just meant to ask her if she wanted to go somewhere for a nightcap, but when she approached him, any thoughts of that flew out the window, and instead, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Maybe _that's _why he hadn't gone with a girl as of late.

He felt her stiffen and heard her sharp intake of breath. It lasted only a couple seconds before she pulled back, and he made himself look at her face.

"You've got a boyfriend, haven't you?" he asked dully, as she fixed her eyes on the ground.

Slowly, she nodded. "I'm sorry, Oliver," she said miserably, finally looking up at him. "Listen – look – do you have practice tomorrow?" He shook his head. "Drop by sometime around eight tomorrow evening, then," she instructed. "I think we have to talk."

"Katie," he said. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm sorry – I should've thought – should've known – that you had a boyfriend."

She shook her head. "Come by, Oliver. It's not about you kissing me. Well, it is," she rectified after a moment's thought. "But not entirely. Please, just stop by."

Completely confused, Oliver thought it best just to agree.

* * *

**October 12, 1998  
7:36 PM**

Oliver _really_ didn't want to stop at Katie's flat. He would've felt much better if he could just ignore and forget about the whole thing. He didn't have to keep seeing her. Sure, the last few months had been fun, but his recent change in dating behaviours was weighing on his mind, and after what happened last night, even he had to admit that it had something to do with Katie.

"Oliver!" she said, as she opened the door to her flat and stepped aside to let him in. "I wasn't sure if you were going to show or not."

"I did ... obviously," he said lamely, stepping into the small hallway.

She showed him to the living room. "Sit down," she urged, before going to the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"I'm alright," he said, taking a seat on the couch. A book was open on the coffee table.

Katie re-entered the room and sat down next to him. "Look," she said. "I have to talk to you."

"Katie, I'm really sorry," Oliver said again. He may have gone home with girls, and he may have done any number of things that would conventionally be considered 'sleazy', but he didn't do anything with girls who were already involved. He wasn't that greasy. "I swear, I didn't know, and if I had -"

He was interrupted when the blonde girl next to him loudly announced, "I broke up with Cameron today."

All logical thought flew from his head as he caught her face between his hands and kissed her just as he had the night before. Except this time, she didn't pull away, and this time, she kissed him back. Before long, she was pressed between him and the arm of the couch, breathing heavily as he placed sloppy kisses on her neck.

"Oliver," she said finally. "Oliver!" Katie twisted away when he didn't stop what he was doing.

He looked at her with clouded eyes. "What?" he finally asked, resting his head against her shoulder.

"Oliver, I need to know that you're going to be around for a while," she said. "I'm not doing this if you're going to up and leave tomorrow."

Exhaling softly, he ran her words over in his head a few times. He couldn't remember the last time he had been there when the girl woke up the morning after, and he knew that if he wasn't, he would lose her friendship, and that – that he couldn't bear. It had been such a nice break, the last few months, to have someone to hang out with whom he didn't work with. Someone who wasn't involved with all the politics and dramas of professional Quidditch, and someone who he cared a lot more about than he would admit.

And even he knew it wasn't just her friendship he was afraid of losing.

"I promise," he said softly. "I promise, and Katie?"

"Hm?" she asked, her fingers toying with the neckline of his robes.

Oliver swallowed hard before continuing. "I really like you," he said. "I promise."

And that was enough for her.

* * *

**12 hours later**

Oliver groaned as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Where thefuck was he? He opened his eyes to see a mess of blonde hair next to him. While the habits he had made over the last couple years were telling his body to get up and leave, his mind was elsewhere.

For the first time in many, many years, Oliver wanted to be there when she woke up. In fact – he reached over and brushed her hair away from her face, and her eyes slowly opened.

"Hey Oliver," she said with a small smile. "Good morning."

"Morning Katie," he returned with a grin.

"How long have you been -" she was interrupted when they heard the door in the next room open and a man's voice said, "Katie?"

Her eyes widened as she swore quietly and climbed out of bed. "Oliver," she said. "I can't explain right now, but you need to take your stuff and ..." her eyes searched her room. "Shit, go into the bathroom." He opened his mouth to either protest or ask her a question, but she silenced him with a sharp glare. "Just listen to me," she instructed as she shrugged on a bathrobe and slipped out the door.

"Hey, Cameron!" he heard her say brightly as he gathered up his clothes. What the fuck was he doing there? Oliver froze in place as he listened to the conversation going on in the kitchen.

"Morning, Kate," a man's voice said. "Listen, I know it's early, and I'm sorry but I figured you'd be up by now. I've got to talk to you about Friday night. My parents are expecting us at 7:00 but I've got to work until 7:30, so we're going to have to put it off a bit."

Katie said something that Oliver couldn't make out. "Yeah, okay," Cameron said, sounding a bit confused. "I just thought – no? Alright, then. Um, so I guess I'll floo you later, okay?"

The voices were getting louder; they must be leaving the kitchen and going out into the hallway. What the hell was going on?

"Goodbye," he heard Katie say as the door opened.

"I love you," Cameron said and Oliver made a face. Either Cameron was crazy clingy and a little creepy, or something didn't make sense, here, and he suspected it was the latter.

"Yeah, I love you, too," he heard Katie say, albeit distractedly, and his stomach dropped. He knew what was going on.

Infuriated, he pulled on his robes and grabbed his wand, opening Katie's bedroom door as the front door was just closing. Startled, Katie turned around to look at him.

"I'm sorry," she said desperately. "There's a reason, I swear!"

"Save it," he told her, pushing past her to the door. He flung it open and was just about to walk out when he instead turned around, laughing humourlessly. "You made _me _promise to be there?" he asked incredulously as Katie stared at the floor, obviously ashamed. "You made _me_ promise that you wouldn't be just another shag when it's obvious that you should've been the one doing the promising. Fuck, Katie!" his voice was rough and hoarse. Why would she have done that to him? What reason could she _possibly_ have?

"Oliver," she said softly. "I know this is bad, but I have a reason, I promise."

Eyebrows raised, he waited.

"Listen," she began. "I'm wrong, I know that. But when you kissed me on Friday night, there was something there. Something that I really wanted to experience again and ... explore," she began. "Something that wasn't there with Cameron. But I didn't want to risk losing him if you ended up ditching me right away." She finally looked up at him, regret etched onto every part of her face.

"So you lied," Oliver said hollowly.

"So I lied," Katie repeated. "I just -"

"Forget it, Katie," Oliver said, staring at her. "Forget it, it's obvious that I wasn't worth it, and it's obvious to me – now – that there wasn't anything there. So just ... see you around."

He walked out, and she didn't call after him; she knew she got what she deserved. But she did sit down and cry tears of frustration, anger, sadness, and shame after he left.

Oliver stormed out of her flat complex, fuming. It wasn't bad enough that she was the one girl who he wanted to wait around for, the one girl he didn't want to take off on; or that she was also the only girl to ever ask – nay, demand – anything of him, she also had to be the one girl who had fucked him over as bad as he'd done to so many others.

His stomach felt like it was tying itself in knots, and he knew that if he apparated, he'd splinch himself. It was a long walk to his flat, but that was all right because he had a lot to think about. He had no idea what she had been thinking when she not only lied to him, but made him promise something she knew she couldn't commit to, but he knew he was pissed and he knew he wasn't entirely sure if he was willing to forgive her.

It wasn't even the whole 'it was only one night' thing that bothered him. Hell, that he had experienced that enough. It was her blatant lie. It was her insistence on a promise that she couldn't uphold, and had no intention of doing so. It was the fact that he enjoyed her company; that he liked her as a person, and that now, he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to spend time with her again, even just as friends.

He thought he had made an important step in his life that morning. Wanting to wake up beside the girl he had shagged the night before was something that had never crossed his mind before. He thought it meant that he was ready for something different, something new and exciting. He thought that Katie was ready for it, too, and that's why she broke up with Cameron. He thought she trusted him.

Mostly, though, he thought he could trust her.


End file.
